


What makes one happy

by stonefreeak



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Domestic, M/M, POV Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:35:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25093222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonefreeak/pseuds/stonefreeak
Summary: Harry is cooking dinner when Draco comes home from work.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 60
Collections: Chill Summer Exchange 2020





	What makes one happy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anecdotalist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anecdotalist/gifts).



> Anecdotalist, I hope you enjoy your gift for this exchange! <3

Harry is stirring a pot on the stove when he hears the tell-tale sound of the front door opening.

"— _believe_ the day I've had, Harry!" Draco is talking at full speed before he's even inside the door, making Harry miss the first part of what he was saying.

Harry smiles fondly to himself and prepares himself for a long-winded rant about something or other. Other people might have found Draco's long monologues frustrating and annoying, but Harry finds them rather soothing. It's an absolutely expected constant in his life that Draco will go on dramatic tangents—usually lacking any sort of self-reflection—just as he comes home from work.

It also means that Harry gets to hear a lot about Draco's day without having to ask any specific questions, and Draco gets to unload. It's really a rather win-win situation in Harry's humble opinion. It's definitely worse on the days when Draco is sullen and quiet and doesn't want to talk at all. Those days, Harry misses the sound of Draco's voice and the flailing movement of his hands. He always did talk with his hands as much as his mouth.

"—You _know_ what he's like, Harry! Always blathering on about one thing or another, not content to be without the sound of his own voice for even so much as a second! Absolutely _maddening_. I know you agree, because you met him during last year's Christmas party and I could basically see you checking out mentally and not listening to a word he said. I'm still aghast that Pemberton didn't even _notice_ that you weren't listening or responding to anything you were saying! What kind of person speaks on end without listening for any sort of input?"

"Who indeed?" Harry says with a smile.

"Yes, well. The day really did just get worse from there, Harry. Pemberton got into his head that he needed to discuss his ideas again. Really, I do not understand how he hasn't been fired yet. He doesn't work at all, he just talks and talks and talks to anyone who will, well, not listen because he doesn't care about _that_ , but. Well. Anyone who's standing still in his general vicinity.

"Really, it's almost rather sad when you think about it." Draco huffs then. "What's even _sadder_ , though, is the fact that for all he will speak of his magnificent ideas, they never actually _amount_ to anything. He doesn't really do anything at all, it's all just theory without substance. None of his ideas have even come _close_ to even the testing stage, and that really does tell you everything you need to know about the validity of his so-called ideas."

"Is that so?"

Harry starts putting dinner on the table, just as Draco dances by and kisses him on the cheek.

"Oh, lovely! What have you made?"

"Chicken tikka masala."

"My favourite!" Draco rewards Harry with a _proper_ kiss this time, and Harry relishes in the feeling of having his boyfriend in his arms.

"Anything else you need to talk about before dinner conversation starts?" Harry gives Draco a raised eye-brow, but Draco doesn't appear to react to it at all.

"Oh, yes! Besides being an utter loud-mouth who doesn't have an original bone in his body and with a complete lack of theoretical foundation, Pemberton is _also_ an incompetent brewer. In fact, Harry, I think he may well be worse than you are and he _wasn't_ more or less sabotaged by having a teacher who hated teaching and hated _him_ even more than that. At least I assume so, I can't possibly know. It's not as if Pemberton and I discuss our childhood and schooling with each other."

Harry just hums in agreement. He's long since gotten used to the fact that his brewing is average at best and certainly considered sub-par by Draco. It's not surprising and Harry doesn't mind, because Draco is a Potions Master with a flair for dramatics and standards far above what most people would consider reasonable.

At this point, Harry just thinks Draco's high standards are funny rather than annoying, and mostly makes him feel fondness toward his boyfriend. He finds it even funnier every time he imagines what his teenage self would have said about the idea that he would one day be _fond_ of Draco Malfoy and find his dramatics funny.

"Of course, Harry, it is rather alright that you aren't an accomplished brewer anyway. Unlike Pemberton, you don't _work_ with potions. And you're competent enough at knowing which ingredients absolutely do not go together to not kill yourself, which, again, is more than I can say for Pemberton!"

Harry chuckles.

"So what about your _own_ research?"

Harry glances at the food still in the oven and nods to himself. It's almost finished, so he'd best get Draco into a calmer mindset so they can have an actual dinner _conversation_. He doesn't mind listening to Draco vent after work, but he does prefer being able to talk to his boyfriend over dinner.

"Oh! Well, I actually had a break-through today!" The excitement in Draco's voice is unmistakable, and Harry grins and gives him a kiss.

"Congratulations, now tell me all about it as I finish up the last bits of dinner preparation."

And Draco immediately sets off to tell Harry all about his research—from scratch, as he always does—while following Harry around their kitchen. He accepts bowls and plates and puts them on the table without being asked, helping on pure auto-pilot. They've found a routine in the kitchen that Harry enjoys, they each cook every other day and always help each other.

Harry had initially assumed that Draco was inept in the kitchen—he grew up with house elves and without doing any sort of house work after all—but it turns out he's _excellent_ at cooking as long as he follows a recipe.

Draco may not be able to put together an original meal based on what flavours go together, the way Harry can, but he follows recipes with the same skill he brews potions so Harry is happily not stuck being the only one who cooks. Not like Ron, who seems to have inherited his mother's skills in the kitchen while Hermione under-seasons everything to the point where she's given up on cooking entirely.

But that's just how it is sometimes. And Harry's glad that the onus is not always on him to cook. If it had been... he thinks it would have reminded him too much of growing up with the Dursleys. He's not sure he could have handled it, if he's honest with himself.

He'll never cook for someone he doesn't like ever again, he _can't_. But that's fine, because Draco's promised he'll do it, if the situation ever arises. For example, if Draco's parents decide that they want to come over to Harry and Draco's apartment for dinner. As grateful as Harry is to Narcissa Malfoy for saving his life and as much as he knows that both Malfoys love their son... Harry still doesn't like either of them. _Especially_ not Lucius. Draco doesn't mind though, and instead runs interference and makes sure that they are together as little as possible.

Of course, he also puts a stop to any sort of nastiness that might arise, so all in all not even dinners at Malfoy Manor are that bad. They're rare, and Draco's already made sure that his parents know that they need to be on their best behaviour Or Else.

"And that's when I realised that if I replace the rose water with a different base, I'll be able to increase the efficiency of the finished potion." Draco smiles widely and Harry comes back from his own train of thought.

"You're brilliant," he says.

He means it. Every time Draco talks about potions, Harry gets rather in awe how much he knows and above all how _inventive_ he is. Of course, Draco is inventive with magic in general and likes fixing things, so that's not so surprising. No matter how ill the use, repairing those vanishing cabinets had been impressive magic. Harry has understood as much since and knows that he wouldn't have figured it out in a million years.

Draco preens and looks very pleased with himself, as always when he receives a compliment. It probably shouldn't be adorable, but Harry still finds it cute. Ron says that's a sign of Harry's bad taste rather than anything else.

Harry finally puts the last pieces of dinner on the table and they take their seats from across each other.

The dinner conversation is far more even, ranging between Harry's day, their plans for the weekend, and a funny story Harry overheard in the Atrium of the Ministry.

It is, perhaps, not much.

It's not the kind of love people write about in dramatic romance books, and it's not perfect. But Harry knows that _nothing_ , and no one, is perfect.

But it is theirs, and that means more than anything else ever could.


End file.
